


A bond so deep

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [40]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x2 missing scene, F/M, Fluff, Jaime not Ser Jaime, Post Knighting, Season 8, heart-to-heart conversation, jealous jaime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 20:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18999496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: He came to Winterfell... for herHe's ready to die... for herHe wants to live... for her





	A bond so deep

**Author's Note:**

> A pointlessly fluffy piece. Hope you like it!

Was it really possible to start seeing someone in an entirely new light? And how the hell did it take so many years for this realization to hit him hard?

Brienne was a few feet away, talking to Pod, laughing and joking, leaving aside the painful thought for the moment that this might, perhaps, be their last night in this world. In all the years he had known her, Jaime had never seen her smile like this. He leaned back, sipping his wine, gazing at her, mesmerized, enjoying the sight before him, wondering if her eyes could be any prettier. They lit up with her laughter, exuding a warmth and sincerity he’d never seen in anyone before. Pretty maids he’d met all his life, most of them vying for his attention, but never before had anyone appealed to him as much as the wench he had grown to care for and love.

He loved her. It was the plainest, most obvious truth of his life.

He was, in fact, desperately and irrevocably in love with her, for how long, he knew not. All he knew was that he lacked the courage to tell her, to find out if she felt the same, for Brienne of Tarth was not a woman who wore her heart on her sleeve.

“Ser Jaime!”

Her soft voice shook him out of his trance. “Where’s Pod?” he asked, looking around and noticing that they were the only two people now left in the hall.

“He look leave to get some rest,” she informed him, for he’d been oblivious to the conversation between them, busy admiring the woman who meant the world to him. “Perhaps we should go too--”

“The lad’s come a long way,” he commented, ignoring her suggestion to leave, desperate to sustain conversation for he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

“He has.” There was unmistakable pride in her voice and her features lit up with a glow that, to his delight, seemed to adorn her face quite consistently since the minute he’d knighted her.

“All thanks to you,” he gushed, in absolute awe of her.

At once she lowered her eyes bashfully, making him ache for her even more. “It’s not--”

“We’ve come a long way too,” he decided to take a chance, hoping she’d see what he meant to convey, “haven’t we?”

An impish smile came upon her face. “We definitely have, for you’ve suddenly stopped insulting me. What’s the matter with you, ser?” she teased. “I haven’t changed, so is it the Northern air that’s making you see things in a different light?”

“Not things, wench,” he corrected, getting up and walking over to her side, “ _specific_ things.”

When he got close, she drew in a deep breath and sprang to her feet, looking at the floor instead of facing him. “I must leave, need to prepare for the battle--”

Jaime impulsively touched her arm to stop her. When she slowly tilted her head up, allowing him a glimpse of her beautiful eyes, he did something he ought to have done much earlier. Sliding his hand down her arm, he grasped her fingers, gently stroking her palm with his thumb. He watched her eyes widen as he brought her hand to his lips, softly kissing her knuckles, granting her the courtesy she’d probably been deprived of all her life.

“What was that for?” She sounded nearly out of breath when he let go of her hand.

“You’re a lady,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes, “you deserve to be treated like one.”

But Brienne looked far from convinced, a frown creasing her forehead. “You’ve never thought of me as one before, remember ‘ _is that a woman’ ?_ ” she asked, send him back to the past, to some of the worst things he had spoken to her.

He didn’t know where to hide his face at the recollection. “Are you still angry for that? I was an idiot then,” he said sheepishly, wanting nothing more than to tell her the truth. “I’ve spoken things I didn’t quite mean, particularly with you. I’ve _always_ thought of you as a lady.”

A little laugh of disbelief escaped her lips. “Men don’t think of me that way--”

“I’m unlike other men, Brienne.”

She shook her head. “Renly never once thought, nor did--”

“Do you still love Renly?” The question left his lips before he could stop himself, a pang of jealousy and an increased loathing for the dead king squeezing him from inside.

“I--” she stuttered, “--he’ll always hold a special place in my heart.”

“Are you in love with him?” he asked again, clenching his fist, his whole body stiffening with tension, apprehensive of her answer.

“No,” she said with a heavy sigh, making him want to sink to the floor in relief, “that feeling’s long gone, though my admiration for him and regard will always remain.”

“ _Who_ do you love then?” he went further than he’d gone before, the wine in him pushing him to say things he’d never otherwise have dared ask her.

“No one,” she mumbled, the faint pink hue in her cheeks betraying her thoughts.

“No one?” He raised his brows, more out of concern that she might be speaking the truth than surprise.

“I must really leave.” She tried to wriggle past him, when he caught her hand again.

“What is it with that wildling, Tormund?” he asked, jealousy raising its ugly head inside him again, “the way he looks at you, talks to you--” he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to contain his irritation “--he just wants to get into your pants, I can see it in his eyes.”

“I do not wish to talk about him.” She turned to the fire, flustered and uncomfortable with the subject, her eyes burning in the pale glow.

Worried that he might upset her, Jaime decided to leave it at that, and there was silence for a while. He then decided to bring up something else he meant to tell her. “When a knight makes another, a bond is forged between them,” he said, remembering the memorable few minutes they were blessed with a while ago, “not unlike that in a marriage--”

Her eyes shot to meet his, the shine in them, her unsaid words a silent consent for him to continue.

“A bond so deep that it can be broken by nothing less than death,” he went on, hoping she’d hear the voice of his heart.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said softly, “I’ve never been knighted before.”

“I don’t know either,” he replied, holding her gaze, unblinking, desperate to read the unspoken emotions in her eyes, “I’ve never knighted anyone before. But I’d very much like to find out--”

He was interrupted by the bellowing of the horn in the distance, the sound evoking a crushing feeling inside him that, after tonight, he might never see her again.

“It’s time,” she murmured, gently freeing her hand from his grasp, turning to leave as she spoke.

“Brienne--” he called out as she reached the entrance, knowing he might never get a chance to say this again.

She stopped, but said nothing.

“If I die tonight, I’d be happy to die by your side.”

She spun around slowly, retracing her steps back to him.

“You’ve made me what I am,” he went on, encouraged by her lack of objection, “there’s nothing more I want than to spend my last moments with you.”

She shook her head vigorously, her eyes moist when she spoke. “You’re not dying,” she said firmly, “not tonight.”

Jaime shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if I fade out, no one here bothers whether I live or die.

“That’s--” she seemed to struggle with words “--that’s not entirely true.”

He peered at her closely. “Really?”

“Your brother does,” she blurted out, squirming under his sharp gaze, “he cares for you. You need to stay alive for him.” With that, she made her way to the entrance and Jaime’s heart sank that she had nothing else to say beyond this.

He was about to reconcile to his disappointment and follow her when she abruptly halted, facing him again. “Lord Tyrion’s not the only one who cares deeply for you, Jaime,” she said, a little shy, a little sad.

When she was about to turn away and leave, the full impact of her words hit him. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“Lord Tyrion’s not the only one who cares deeply for you,” she repeated, the blush on her cheeks spreading to her ears.

“And what was it you said after that?” he urged, his heart pounding, wanting to hear it again and again and again.

“Jaime,” she said again, the word on her lips music to his ears.

“It’s Jaime now, is it? Not Ser Jaime?” he asked, elated that she’d broken the invisible wall between them, a barrier that had been looming large since the day he'd bid farewell to her at King’s Landing.

She didn’t answer, focusing on her feet instead and wiping her palm on her trousers.

“So, I suppose, Tormund’s just a nuisance then?” he pressed further, his heart threatening to thump its way out of his ribs.

“I should go fetch Pod,” was all she said in reply. When she turned away, he was sure he'd seen a small smile on her lips.

“Answer me, wench,” he called out, “you can’t leave me like this!”

She was gone, but Jaime couldn’t help grinning despite the gravity of the situation. Unless he was terribly mistaken, she loved him. Him, Jaime, not Renly, her first love. About Tormund, he was sure, well, _almost_ sure that it was one-sided, but that was something he made a mental note to find out about if he survived the war. He’d do everything to make her his, woo her, court her, make her feel like a lady and shower her with all the love that was his to give.

 _After the war,_ he promised himself, mentally recounting everything he wanted to tell her. Having never felt such contentment before, he left the hall whistling a tune, wishing for a chance at life for a change, hoping to spend the rest of his life with the knight he shared a sacred bond with.

A bond so deep, that it could only be broken by death. Death would come one day, but if his instincts were to be trusted, today wasn't that day.

 


End file.
